Your Wings Were Ready, My Heart Was Not
by TheEliteLabRatsLover
Summary: If you cheat death too many times...it will inevitably catch up with you.


**What...is... _wrong_...with me? Lol, the first story I write for them in a while, turns out to be a death!fic. Again! Lol, at least you'll hopefully still like it. ;) I know hat I usually pick out a song for each story...but I honestly don't have one. Just listen to a really sad one and you should be good. ;P This was honestly kind of a fun challenge for me, because I literally can _not_ write Donald. So yeah...hopefully it's okay. ;)**

 **Disclaimer: Um...I don't own this...**

* * *

The mission was supposed to be simple.

They were supposed to just get in, and get out. So how was he supposed to know that going over the mission details would be the last conversation he'd ever have with his children? The last time he'd ever see them again?

It was just all so much... _too much_.

Donald couldn't even fall asleep anymore, his vivid imagination keeping him up as it played out their final moments. Chase's final words playing over and over in his mind as if it was constantly on repeat.

 _Mr. Davenport, there's a bomb-!_

And those were last his son would ever say.

It was Donald's fault. He shouldn't have sent them on that mission; he didn't need to. But no, he wanted them to go to retrieve 'valuable' information. But was it really so important that they had to lose their lives for it?

 _He shudders involuntarily as he walks up the cement steps; the crisp morning air surrounding him, as the air stills, as if in honor of the three fallen heroes._

Leo and Tasha tried to help him, tried to fill the empty void in his heart, but it wouldn't work. _Nothing_ would work. They were gone, and it was all his fault. And Leo and Tasha were suffering as well, but it wasn't like he could do anything to help them; his heart empty, and a sick feeling taking over his entire being every time he goes down into the lab and sees the capsules.

 _Empty_ capsules that would never be used ever again.

Maybe he should close everything up; it's not like he could do much down there anyway. He just couldn't bring himself to go down there much anymore; there was no inspiration for working on new projects.

Every time he went down there, he would see the project that he and Chase had been working on for the school science fair. Or one of Bree's hair bows would be lying on the table, along with Adam's tablet that he had received on his birthday after years of wanting one; all never to be touched by their owners ever again.

He should have given him the tablet sooner.

What good was it now?

...

 _The trip is long, but he doesn't mind. The cold air clears the haze in his mind, attempting to remove the grief that fills his movements. Tears build in his eyes, but he refuses to let them fall, knowing that if he did, there would be no stopping it._

 _..._

The worst part? Was that nobody even knew what had happened. There was no way for the heroes to be honored. Because nobody knew that they had even existed. They should have. Donald should have let the world know who it's heroes truly were.

Because now nobody would ever know. And the three heroes would never know just how appreciated they were; by the world _and_ him. But he only did it to protect them. He wonders now; was it really worth it?

...

 _He takes the final step, reaching the top and inhaling as the fresh air filled his lungs. He feels renewed, the air fresh and the scenery calm, and soothing. But then he sees_ _ **it**_ _._

 _..._

Grief definition: deep mental anguish, as that arising from bereavement. Regret definition: to remember with a feeling of loss or sorrow; mourn.

Why did those fit him so perfectly?

Why did this have to happen? Why did his pride and joy have to be taken from this world so soon, and so abruptly? Why did they, _all so young_ , have to see the end so quickly? Just...why? It was a question that had disturbed his thoughts for so long, now.

...

 _They're right there. All he has to do is walk over there, and he'll be right in front of them. Three identical tombstones, all laid next to each other, the graves empty, as freshly dug soil lies next to each other, in perfect unison. The way it had always been, and will always be. They all three worked so well together, always in perfect sync. It's what made them the perfect team. They would always be one._

 _They were brought together as one, and would die as one._

 _..._

They had always made it out safe and sound. It was something that Donald thought they always would. Not once did he believe that they would go out on a mission, and never return. They had escaped death so many times...yet...not this time.

They were so close, yet they couldn't escape the inevitable. He supposes that it was bound to happen at some point. They had escaped it so many times, barely brushing past the unrelenting jaws of death, chasing them down, until the one day it finally caught up with them.

...

 _He pushes himself until he can finally take the first step towards his destination, clutching onto the single rose in his hands, but the pain is numb to him, he's dull to it by now, and it takes him a full five minutes to even work up the nerve to do so. The sun shines from behind the clouds, giving the entire scenery a peaceful setting, and feeling._

 _As if the three of them are finally where they belong. He can't help the selfish feeling inside if him, disagreeing with their destiny. They didn't deserve this, he argues. They deserved a long life._ Perhaps they are better here _, a voice in the back of his mind seems to whisper knowingly, gently. Perhaps, being in Heaven now has saved them from a much more horrible fate..._

 _..._

He couldn't accept this. He just couldn't. How could he? They were _gone_ because of _him_. He can't just-just _move on_ like nothing even happened. Like they weren't just a major part of his life. Weren't the reason that he could wake up every morning knowing that they would down in the lab ready to greet him and ready for another day. And that they weren't the reason that he _lived his life_.

...

 _He's there now. In front of the empty graves that lie in the vast wilderness. It's a nice place here; near a mountain range, resting on the crest of a hill. He had the cemetery made, and kept a secret the week after the mission-gone-wrong. He hadn't had any plans for where they would be buried; he never thought that he would_ _ **have**_ _to. And they couldn't even get a proper burial, because nobody even knew that they had existed._

 _..._

Perhaps they were happier now, Donald thought. Maybe they were laughing and smiling up in Heaven this very second. Was it selfish of him to want them to be _here_ with _him_ , laughing and smiling as if nothing had even happened?

He missed them, _God, did he miss them_.

So Donald had decided to visit them. Not _them_ , but their _graves_. And that was how he found himself standing up on a hill's crest, in the early morning, clutching onto a single red rose as tears streamed down his face.

He'd be back before Leo and Tasha even awoke. And this was actually, his first time since the funeral, that he had come up here. He just couldn't bring himself to come up here, not without feeling the heavy weight of loss, and guilt bringing down his shoulders. He had failed them...when all they ever did was try to make the world a better place.

Some father he was, huh?

He kneels down, and places the rose in the center of the middle grave. _Empty_ grave. Perhaps that was what bothered him the most. They hadn't any bodies to bury, nor would they ever. The three teenagers, _his children_ , had been killed in the blast; no trace left behind.

So he felt as if he couldn't mourn for them, as there was no body to mourn over. It was ridiculous, really, but how could he grieve over three empty graves? He's shaking now, body wracking with sobs as he looks at the tombstones.

The sun is shining, and it makes no sense to him, whatsoever, because _how could anything ever shine again without them in his life_? But when he looks up, it's almost as if he can see their smiles in the light that brightens the world around him. Almost as if they're watching him, and trying to tell him that _it's okay, Mr. Davenport_. _**We're**_ _okay_.

And for a second, he believes it.

Maybe they are in a better place. Maybe it really was their time to go. But he still can't help the selfish feeling that fills him. He didn't _want_ this. _But they're happier_ , a voice reminds him, and he feels himself sighing before he can ever stop it. Donald supposes that they are. He just wishes that he could be happy with _him_.

 _This was coming_ , the voice whispers. _You can not escape the inevitable_. But does that mean that he has to like it? That he had to be prepared for it?

Their wings may have been ready, but his heart had not been.

He presses a shaky kiss to the palm of his hand, before gently placing it onto the grave in front of him; Chase's. He then proceeds to repeat the process with each tombstone until he finds himself in the same position as before; looking at each tombstone and fighting back the sobs that threaten to overtake him.

 _As long as you're happy_ , he thinks. _I can live without you. But I know that someday...someday I_ _ **will**_ _see you again. And I can live the rest of my life out peacefully, knowing that truth. Knowing that this is not the end for us._

He sighs with a watery smiles. "I...love you guys. And I'm sorry that I didn't say that enough while you were alive." Donald stands up, looking at it one more time. He raises his hand in a final wave. "Until we meet again." And with that, he goes his separate way, leaving behind his past, and heading towards his future.

Life wouldn't ever be the same without them in his life...but that didn't mean that it would have to be horrible. He still misses them, _God, he will_ _ **always**_ _miss them_ , but he can rest assured knowing that he will see them again one day.

He still doesn't think that it was fair for them to have to go so soon, but he knows that it was their time. They were his life, and he would be sure to carry out their legacy. The world _will_ know who it's heroes truly were.

He smiles sadly as he climbs into the driver's seat of the car, assured of one thing, and one thing only.

 _Someday...we will meet again._

* * *

 **Was that an okay ending? Because I feel like it sucked...oh, well. I wasn't sure on whether or not to have it end sadly, or with happily. So, I decided on happy, because not too many of my stories seem to have that, lol. So, yeah, just let me know what your thoughts are on your way out, and I'll love ya' forever! ;D**


End file.
